


The Bastard Son

by ScribblesInTheMargins



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Victuuri - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Illegitament Yuri Plisetsky, Post-Canon, St. Petersburg, Wedding, bothers, referenced cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribblesInTheMargins/pseuds/ScribblesInTheMargins
Summary: Yuri has a secret. Born with a blank line on his birth certificate and his grandfather's patronym, he knew what he is missing -- he just can not let Victor know.  It wasn't a hard lie to keep ... that is until the day of Victor's wedding when he will be expected to be at the same place as the family he has spent a lifetime avoiding.  It's for one day.  All he can do is tell himself that he can get through this.
Relationships: Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky, Yuri Plisetsky & Victor Nikiforov's family
Comments: 26
Kudos: 76
Collections: YOI Rare Pair Week 2021





	The Bastard Son

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to all the people of the superfan discord who let me bounce this idea around with until it turned into this :)
> 
> This is for Day 6 of YOI Rare Pair Week 2021 - Agape (a mother's love)

"Plisetsky!"

I let out a sharp breath as I got back to my feet. That was going to leave a bruise. If I hadn't been so distracted, I wouldn't have fallen. Okay, maybe I would have fallen. It wasn't like I was Victor 'I-never-let-my-ass-touch-the-ice' Nikiforov. I wouldn't have fallen like that though. That hurt. As I rubbed my hip and shook my head, I started to skate over to where Yakov was vacillating between being worried and being angry.

"Where is your head today? If you are not going to pay attention, go get changed."

I didn't want to argue. I knew my mind was on other things, but what could I do? At least it was the off-season. I just nodded, missing the worried look from Yakov. Hell, I didn't see how anyone else was looking at me with concern. Maybe I didn't have a reputation for doing what I was told. I definitely didn't have a reputation for taking it easy without a fight.

There was no getting out of this. In just four days I had to be at the wedding of Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki, and every last thing I had done to try and get out of it had not worked. Short of a catastrophic injury on the ice in the next three days, there was nothing I could do. The suit had been ordered. Programs were printed. Everything was set -- I had managed to miss most of the wedding chaos. It was almost the wedding, and I didn't know if I could manage this.

Maybe I could just spend the next few days at Lilia's studio. If I was too busy concentrating on my form, I wouldn't be able to think about the wedding and how horrible this was going to be.

For all I tried to avoid everything over the next few days, it was impossible. Phichitt had flown in and was attached at the hip to Yuuri. Christophe had arrived and if you thought Victor was hard to ignore, Victor and Christophe were as if one of those telenovelas that Leo watched had barged into the room. It was non-stop, and by the time the day had actually arrived, I felt like I was going to be sick.

Somehow, I reached the venue. No one would be surprised that the wedding was being held in an old house that dated back to the time of the last czar. Of course, it did. Surrounded by opulence, I sat in a chair as one of the stylists tried to decide what to do with my hair. I had an idea, but my idea of just leave it the fuck alone was not going to happen today, so I sat there as she decided how she was going to braid it. Somehow I managed to convince her that flowers in my hair would be a bad idea.

With a coffee in my hands, I had almost managed to relax. Yuuri and Victor were both off someplace else getting ready and the other groomsmen were late -- maybe they weren't late. It was entirely possible that I had been told to be here earlier than necessary. I hadn't put on the suit yet, just sitting there in sweatpants while my hair got braided.

When the door opened, I looked up, expecting it to be Victor. It wasn't. Instantly I felt my back stiffen as the two people I had never meet walked in. I knew who they were. Of course, I knew who they were -- Victor's father, Uryuvkos Mikhailovich Nikiforov, and his youngest son, Mikhail. The cold shiver that slammed through me as I looked over at them actually got my stylist to tell me to hold still.

Victor's father looked at me, frowning as he did. His son was oblivious. I knew exactly how old the boy was, he was five months younger than me. It didn't change how Uryuvkos looked at me. I knew he didn't want me here. Of course, he didn't. I had a part to play though, and I was going to play it because nothing was going to cause me to ruin Victor and Yuuri's day.

Even though I very much knew who they were, and I knew that man knew exactly who I was, I had to act as if he didn't. "Oh, hello. I'm Yuri Plisetsky. You are Vitya's father?" I tried to make it sound like a question even as I looked up into those eyes that could be an exact mirror of mine.

While the older man stared me down with a disapproving glare, Mikhail smiled brightly. The boy truly was so much like Victor, and yes, I knew that I shouldn't think of him as a boy when he was only five months younger than me. We had had very different lives. "Hi, Yuri! You have the same name as my brother's fiance. That must be so confusing. What do you want me to call you?"

There was a temptation to say something stupid or to say that Victor called me 'Yurio'. Instead, I just smiled, "You can call me Yura." It was so hard smiling back at the face of the 'better' son. He didn't know, no, Mikhail didn't know that his parents had been fighting and that his dad had been cheating. He didn't know that he was the baby that had been the attempt to fix the marriage.

Not that it really mattered. Nothing really mattered.

"Misha, get your suit and get ready. I am going to check on your brother."

I didn't miss the cold look that I was given. Mikhail's only brother was Victor -- not me. That was how it had always been though. As Uryuvkos left the room, I closed my eyes. Why did I have to look so much like him? I had spent years keeping this secret. Victor's father was a famous film producer. He had been working for Channel 1 back in the late 90s and spending a lot of time away from St. Petersburg. He'd had several successful dramas on television as well as movies. My mother had been a young actress. I didn't know the details of how I came to be, but it probably involved a couch somewhere. On the days I was thinking kindly of my mother, I would assume there was a hotel.

I don't know what he told her. Maybe he had said he had loved her. I think she thought he did. No, that was a lie. I know she thought he had loved her. He hadn't chosen her though. When he found out my mother was pregnant … well, it hadn't been nice. In the end, I had been born and given my grandfather's patronym and family name. The 'father' line on my birth certificate had remained blank and checks had shown up every month.

Shortly after my mother had told Uryuvkos, he had left Moscow to go back to St. Petersburg and somehow sorted out his marriage. The result of that was Mikhail, or as I thought of him, the son my father chose.

No one here knew that Victor and I were related. I did everything I could to keep it that way. Thankfully, Victor had the pale platinum hair of his mother and her blue eyes. I had the blond hair and green eyes of our father. The lie was easier to keep when I wasn't in the same room as the chosen son, the one who looked much too much like me. I was a little thinner, more thanks to Lilia's training than genetics though. Maybe, just maybe if I kept a frown on my face it would separate me enough from the Nikiforov brothers.

Chris and Victor eventually showed up. They had both already changed into their suits, and soon the room was chaotic as everyone was given the finishing touches. Now, all in out white suits with hair and makeup done, we were hustled off to the garden where the official pictures would be taken. If I had known how badly this was going to go, I would have figured out how to break my arm or something to get out of this.

"OK, now I want to get a picture of just the groom and his brothers."

"Brother. One." I knew I was too quick to correct it, but if it wasn't corrected now, it would be like this all night.

"Oh, of course, why don't you --"

"No, Mikhail is Victor's brother." I hated this. I knew how much I looked like Victor. What I hadn't realized was that I looked more like him than his youngest brother did.

As if this couldn't get worse, Christophe noticed because, of course, he did. "Oh, Yura, you and Misha could be twins."

We could be -- if we weren't five months apart and his entire conception had been based on Victor's mother trying to win back her husband or some such bullshit. "Not funny, Christophe. Not funny."

"Oh I didn't mean it to be funny, I thought it was just so strange that you look so similar." Then he yelled out to the photographer, "We should get a picture of Misha and Yura together. Twins!"

Somehow, I got through the pre-wedding pictures without killing Christophe. I did not get through the pre-wedding pictures without fantasizing about killing him. I also did not get through the pictures without meeting Victor's mother. I had never looked her up. She wasn't a publicly known figure, but as soon as she walked out into the garden for pictures, I paused. The woman was beautiful. No, that didn't begin to describe her. My mother was beautiful. A lot of people were beautiful. Victor's mother was ethereal. She looked as if she were grace incarnate. Everything about her was soft, from her long hair seamlessly greying from that pale platinum to her comforting eyes. She was … that was the moment I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I was jealous. As I saw Mikhail run-up to his mother and get a hug and then how she hugged Victor -- I was jealous. No wonder Uryuvkos had chosen that family and not mine. Maybe I was being too hard on my own mother, but that wasn't anything new.

I stayed near the photographer as I avoided Victor's family while those photos were taken. This even was making it so hard to avoid them, but I was trying. I was trying so hard. She kept looking at me though. I didn't know if she knew. Then I saw it, sadness, and I was pretty sure she did.

Avoiding only worked for as long as Victor was busy. As soon as those photos were done and we were going to get ready for the actual wedding, Victor was leading his mother over to introduce her to Christophe -- no, not introduce. Of course, Victor had known Christophe for ages, they had already met. I was the only one she hadn't met. As Victor walked over with his mother, I felt like I was going to throw up. This wasn't her fault. None of this was her fault.

I was trying to stay calm. I didn't want to say my family name in case she would recognize it. Maybe it was overly formal, but as I held out my hand, I went with my patronym, "Yuri Nikolaevich. It is a pleasure to meet you." 'A pleasure', that was a lie, but one I had to stick to.

I couldn't look away from her eyes as she looked at me. Did she see her husband in me? How could she not though, with how closely I resembled her youngest, there was no way she did not see it. Victor was being Victor though as he rambled on, "And I didn't realize until today. Did you see how much Misha looks like Yurio?"

It was on instinct I rebelled against that nickname. I hated it. I tolerated it from Yuuri and his family, but Victor damn well knew better, "Not my name, asshole." I instantly started apologizing for swearing in front of her.

When she smiled though, I felt like my heart was breaking, She was so beautiful but she couldn't hide the sadness as she gently reached out to take my hand, "It's fine, Yura. None of this is your fault."

Victor looked confused, and I didn't know what to say. Very quickly the confusion turned to his normal smile and he was being fussed over by Christophe. I knew that Victor's mother knew the secret. I tried to hold onto her words. Maybe she meant them. I needed her to mean them.

The beginning of the ceremony was a blur. I walked in next to one of Yuuri's friends that I didn't know. I took my spot, holding the bouquet exactly as I had been told to, and stood there, last in line behind Christophe and Mikhail. I stood there as Yuuri was walked in by his father and his mother, one parent on each side. I stood there as the vows were exchanged and the public kiss performed. 

With Mikhail there, I didn't even have to do any of the 'Russian' things I was normally roped into doing. Instead, all I had to do was look pretty and not say a word.

It was a nice ceremony, overdone for me, but it was perfect for Victor. He was so happy. That was why I couldn't say anything, I couldn't let anyone know my secret. If Victor knew … I didn't know what that would cause. I couldn't hurt him, not on his wedding day. Eventually, everything ended up outside again in the garden for the reception. The entire bridal party had done photos together before we could go outside again, so by the time we got there, everyone was already drinking. I really needed a drink by that point. I'd been fine -- well, I had been faking fine. When Victor and Yuuri had their family together for the last picture and the photographer had once again thought I belonged up there … that had almost been too much. It wasn't as if I had any right to be there, the bastard son never belonged.

I survived dinner and the cutting of the cake. I survived the first dance. No one said anything about how little I ate or how I hardly touched my cake. Finally, the night was in its last event. All I had to do was stay at this table and away from everyone and I would have made it through the entire night. I must have closed my eyes at some point because somehow someone had snuck up on me. My eyes flew open and I saw Victor's mother sitting down next to me. "Ekaterina Nikiforova." I knew that was too formal, but we hadn't spoken except those few words. I didn't know what else to say.

She shook her head, "Please, just call me Katya." Everything about her was so soft. Maybe that was how mothers were supposed to be. I couldn't tear my eyes away. "Will you humor me? There is one picture I want that the photographer didn't get."

How could I say no to her? I found myself nodding before I even let myself think things through. That was how I ended up standing to Victor's right while Mikhail was on his left in front of one of the larger displays of flowers. The lights were dim so I wasn't sure how good this picture was going to be, but the photographer was still here to get 'candid' photos. I knew what this was, but both Victor and Mikhail were clueless. The pictures were taken and then Yuuri joined us as a few more shots were done. When she walked up to join the group, that was when Uryuvkos found us. Of course, he'd been drinking, but he'd been in a good mood -- until now.

He rushed up to Ekaterina, "What are you doing. Why is he here!" The finger was firmly pointed at me. Before Ekaterina had a chance to say anything, he turned to me, growling out, "Don't I pay you enough to stay the fuck away?" He grabbed his wallet, pulling bills from it to toss in my face.

"What are you doing?" For once, it was Victor stepping forward. "Mama just wanted some more pictures?"

I should have left. I should have gotten out of there to let them fight this out with whatever lie the man wanted to tell. I didn't. I'd been sitting at that table all alone for too long, and right now everything hurt too much for me to think of anything but hurting the man that hurt me. "I don't want your money. Fuck your money."

"You shut up, you son of a whore." The words were near growled.

It didn't matter how much I fought with my mother, hearing him call her that snapped every last piece of self-control I had. "Shut your mouth, asshole!" I stepped forward, pushing past Victor. "You leave her the fuck out of this." I shoved him. I was the first one to lay hands on anyone.

"I paid you to stay away from my family, but you couldn't do that, could you, you little greedy --"

I threw a punch. For as much shit as I talk though, I take ballet, I'm not a fighter. I hadn't been 'on the streets' of Moscow since I was seven. I didn't stand a chance of avoiding the punch … or the shove ... or anything that led up top be getting tossed to the ground and into a chair.

The only sensible thing I did that night was I stayed down.

I heard the yelling, I saw Uryovkos storm off. I had done it. I had done the one thing I had sworn I wasn't going to do. I had ruined the wedding. I should have just disappointed Victor and stayed home. I had ruined everything -- again.

What I didn't expect was for a soft hand to be placed on my cheek. When I looked up, Ekaterina was there. "Vitya, get some ice."

I didn't know what to do. Of all the things I had expected, kindness was the last of those. When she placed a bag of ice on my cheek and fussed over me, all I could think of doing was apologizing. I don't even know what I said. I just tried to say how sorry I was for ruining everything.

"Yura, shush. No, this is not your fault. I should have said something earlier." I was helped up and then led to a back room. Unfortunately Yuuri, Victor, and Mikhail all followed Ekaterina and me.

"I didn't want to cause a scene." I hadn't wanted any of this to happen.

"I know." She kept pressing the ice to my face, and I was sure I was going to look worse for wear tomorrow. Nothing was broken though. Somehow he had avoided my nose.

"Why was dad like that?" Mikhail was the one to ask. Victor looked torn as Yuuri held onto his shoulder. I was positive that Victor was going to blame me. Everything was always my fault after all.

She sighed, "Do you want me to?" The question was to me. There wasn't a way to say no. Besides, didn't they have the right to know? It might be my secret, but it was too late to be kept. Not after today, after today they'd figure it out.

I nodded, looking over to Victor as I wished for all the world that the earth would just split open and swallow me whole.

"Yura is your brother." Her words were soft but definitive and not what I had expected. I had expected something like 'Your father cheated on me' or 'your father knocked up some girl'.

I heard Victor gasp and I dropped my gaze. I hadn't wanted to ruin today. Victor … Victor was Victor. Even before I had known he was my half-brother, I had looked up to him. What kid at the time hadn't. His performance at the Olympics had captivated the nation. Every child in my first figure skating class had wanted to be the next Viktor Nikiforov. Then I had been scouted by Yakov and was able to skate on the same ice as the closest thing to a hero I had ever had growing up. My world had revolved around being like Victor -- until the day I had learned that I would never be the one thing that Victor was. I would never be the wanted child.

"I'm sorry …" I mumbled out the words. It was a worthless apology that couldn't undo any of the pain I had caused today. My jaw hurt, my face hurt, but those were just physical pain. I had ruined a once in a lifetime experience for the brother I had only wanted to be proud of me.

"Yurio …"

"Not my name."

I didn't expect him to whisper, "Yura." Of course, he knew that was the name I went by. Everyone at the rink knew that. I introduced myself as Yura all the time. He never called me Yura though, not until today. I started crying. I didn't want to, this wasn't about me. This was Victor's day. He should be happy, dancing with his husband while his parents watched.

With his arms wrapped around me, that was the end of my self-control. All I could do was cry. I had wanted this for so long. Victor held onto me as Ekaterina gave a very short version of what had happened. She explained things so much nicer than what I was sure was reality though. The explanation that she and her husband had been estranged for a period of time wasn't exactly true as I knew the story. I did believe that she didn't know about me for several years. I believed her when she said she didn't know my name or who my mother was or any way to track me down. When she said she assumed I had a family, that was when I finally managed to stop crying. I did have a family. It was little. It was broken. It was mine though. "My deda loves me very much." Of all the things in the world, I knew that he loved me. He loved me if I won gold, and he loved me if I came in last. He loved me unconditionally no matter what.

"I'm glad you had that. You deserve more though." She reached out to stroke at one of the braids in my hair. "You look so much like my husband, even more than Misha does."

"He's mad."

"He'll get over it." She shrugged, no even allowing a second to consider how the man was dealing with this right now. "He could have made this not an issue. He knew who you were. He knew you'd be here. I didn't know until I saw you. The second I looked at you, I knew. I have all three of my boys here, and I love all of you."

This time the tears were happier. I didn't go back to the party, not ready to face the public. I was sure this was not how Victor expected to spend his wedding night, but in that back room, we talked about the things I had missed and the things they had missed. Yuuri wasn't mad. He was happy to have another brother. Mikhail for some reason was thrilled to have someone closer in age to him in the family.

At some point, someone had gotten more cake, and this time I was able to actually enjoy it. Ekaterina was positive her husband would get over himself about this. She promised he wasn't horrible, he just … sometimes acted before he thought things through. Maybe I was the son that was the most like him.

By the time Yuuri and Victor left to say goodbye to their guests before moving on to the first night of their honeymoon, I was smiling and laughing. Katya, as she insisted I call her, was wonderful. Mikhail was funny. It was still so strange, but my little family was now that much bigger and I didn't regret it tonight at all. Even though I'd wake up with half of my face bruised, the secret was out. I didn't have to lie anymore.


End file.
